


Bare It Together

by njw



Series: Dicktim Week Prompt Stories [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hallucinations, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Liquid Fear, M/M, Referenced Canonical Non Con, Sex Pollen, dicktimweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21821416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njw/pseuds/njw
Summary: The rising scent, infinitely more pleasant than Crane’s rather acrid alpha stench, is unmistakable. Not only is Nightwing on liquid fear, he’s going into rut. But he’s clearly wearing his rebreather, so how…?Red Robin’s gaze falls on the numerous rips in the other vigilante’s uniform, some of which are seeping blood. Of course. The pollen must have infiltrated his system through contact with his open wounds.He blinks. Then slowly lowers his head to look at the many open wounds covering his own body. Suddenly, holding his breath seems significantly less important.Well, shit.*For thetumblr Dicktim weekday two aob/blood prompt.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Dick Grayson
Series: Dicktim Week Prompt Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571443
Comments: 101
Kudos: 777
Collections: Dick Tim Week 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Salazarastark and Strawberryjei for the wonderful beta!
> 
> Enjoy!

Nightwing swings down out of the night sky, taking advantage of his momentum to somersault through the air and deliver a stunning kick to the nearest henchman. The impact sends the man flying into the unforgiving brick wall of the nearby building where he crumples, motionless against the trash gathered in the narrow alleyway. The vigilante twists as he lands, dropping to the ground and sweeping out a leg to knock the other three men off their feet before they even fully comprehend what’s happening.

They all go down with muffled shouts of surprise. He clenches his jaw in irritation as he hurries to gag and bind the two closest to him. “What the— _shit!”_ the burly thug with the shaved head manages to choke out a few words before he’s silenced. The skinny one releases a loud squeal of terror, and doesn’t shut up until he’s gagged.

Well, so much for taking Scarecrow by surprise. Although it’s possible the villain won’t even notice the disturbance, considering the cacophony of riotous sound echoing through the city tonight.

A judicious application of his escrima stick takes the fight out of the third thug. A quick glance tells him the one crumpled against the brick wall, groaning, is unlikely to be capable of attempting to escape any time soon. Nightwing ties him up anyway and then piles him with his cronies before signaling their location to Oracle. She’ll know when it’s safe to send the police in for a pickup. Judging by the background din of wailing sirens, shrill screams, angry shouts, and hair-raising, maniacal laughter, the police probably won’t be available for a while.

He takes a moment to scan the scene again. Nothing’s moving in the alleyway except the faintly stirring mound of restrained thugs and the quiet skitterings of what’s probably a rat or two nosing through the ubiquitous litter and alley sludge. Brooding, dark clouds overhead are lit from below by the eerily dancing glow of the fires in Coventry to the northwest, where Firefly is running amok. Above it all, the Batsignal shines steadily on, a beacon of hope as much as it is a desperate cry for help.

Nightwing listens to the chaos for a moment longer before he returns to the matter at hand. The others are answering those cries for help. Batman and Robin are rounding up the Joker who, predictably, made straight for Amusement Mile immediately after the mass breakout from Arkham earlier tonight.

Black Bat and Batgirl are closing in on Firefly, and should be able to bring him down before he inflicts further damage. Red Hood has Arsenal for backup as he faces off against Killer Croc and there’s no way either of them will let anything happen to the other. Even if something does go wrong there, Starfire would show up in no time flat to save her beta and omega bondmates. If they were truly in danger, she’d come for them and to hell with Batman’s rule about metas staying out of Gotham.

The Birds of Prey are hunting tonight as well, tracking and apprehending the rest of the inmates who escaped. Only Red Robin and Nightwing are flying alone. It couldn’t be helped. Poison Ivy and Scarecrow both represent too great a potential threat to risk leaving either of them to roam free a moment longer than necessary.

With any luck, all the criminals will be brought in without any casualties.

Yeah, right. He’s not about to put his trust in fickle luck to keep his precious Pack safe. He’ll just have to wrap this thing with Scarecrow up fast so he can get to Robinson Park and provide backup to Red Robin. Once they take down Ivy together, they can then go support whomever needs it most.

_And if I’m maybe taking advantage of this crisis to spend a little time with Tim without him having the option of running away or claiming to be too busy, well, it’s not like he’s given me any other choice. I’m willing to fight dirty for a place in his life._

It’s been over a year since they got Bruce back, which was great. Of course it was great, but… It seems like instead of coming back once he’d proven that Bruce was alive after all, Tim just continued to drift further away.

Nightwing quickly makes his way up to the roof of the partially constructed building that houses his primary target, double checking as he grapples his way up that there are no new guards approaching to replace those he already incapacitated. “Oracle?”

She answers immediately, disguised voice all business and rapid typing audible in the background as she coordinates and runs support for all the teams that have been deployed to deal with this crisis. “Nightwing. You’re clear. The cameras you set up at the other entrances when you dealt with the rest of the guards don’t show any reinforcements. Based on heat scans, Scarecrow appears to be alone in the building. Are you sure you want to go in immediately? I can divert Huntress—”

_Yeah, and leave Black Canary without any backup against Two Face? Thanks, but no thanks._

“Negative,” he says, then silences the comm and dons his rebreather before he eases his way into the building through a roof vent. “I’ve got this.”

He weaves his way over and between the exposed girders, leaping and balancing gracefully to cross the interior until he’s close enough to overhear ranting. The masked villain is maniacally pacing down below, his grotesquely distorted shadow flitting through the dark interior of the structure in the flickering emergency lighting.

“—already added the base chemicals to the reservoir. Now I just need the final ingredient to activate the chemical reaction so that fear will finally reign _supreme!_ But what the hell could be taking those mouth breathing troglodytes so long, they should have been back ten minutes ago!” The tall, gaunt man flails his long arms through the air, clenching bony hands into fists in a gesture of frustration.

_Huh. Guess that explains why the first set of guards I took down were hauling that huge drum of chemicals around. Welp, now I know the details of Crane’s evil plan. Pretty standard stuff, I’m almost disappointed. But not really, because this just makes it easier to stop him and move on to something more important._

Oracle has the information as well through the recordings from his mask. Knowing her, she’ll already be working to coordinate decontamination of the reservoir. All he has to do at this point is take down the criminal mastermind. _Time to bring Scarecrow in and then go help Timmy!_

His heart surges at the thought, worry for the others amplified by the knowledge that this particular Packmate has been hovering on the fringes of the Pack for far too long. He’s tried to give the younger man the time and space he needed to grow into his own vigilante identity and stand on his own, but it’s getting harder to wait for him to come back. Seeing him for hurried moments during fights on patrol is not the same as actually spending time together.

And it sure as hell isn’t helping that over the past few months, he’s been _noticing_ Tim. Sometime over the last couple of years, the omega has really come into his own. His quick, brilliant mind and the way he fights, every move calculated and precise and clearly planned eight steps ahead of his opponents, _does_ things to Dick. Unnerving, inappropriate things that he’d really better get a handle on if he ever wants to be able to look the other vigilante in the eye again.

_I’m sure if we start hanging out again and just talk, I’ll be able to set aside those feelings. I just need a reminder of who Tim and I are to each other and that he doesn’t think of me that way. If I have that, all of this will go away._

This infatuation is probably just a result of him growing confused because the only times he sees Tim are when he’s in full on ass-kicking mode, and honestly, who could resist _that?_ Maybe after they manage to wrap up the current crisis, the two of them can actually grab a bite or something and catch up a bit, bring him back down to earth. With the added benefit of helping bring a drifting Packmate back home.

Though maybe not, considering Red Robin’s proven predilection and talent for slipping away the moment the bad guys have been apprehended. Well, he’ll do his best. At this rate, he’s afraid they’re going to lose the omega completely to the Titans Pack, especially considering he’s ninety percent sure Red Robin and Superboy have been dating for at least the past six months.

Which is a thought that absolutely shouldn’t bring a pang of jealousy and sadness. He wants Tim to be happy, of course he does. Just… He hadn’t expected it to be completely apart from him. Wait, from the _Pack._ Not him specifically. 

_I wanted him to have the space to spread his wings, but I always thought he’d fly back to us someday._

Below, Scarecrow unwittingly steps into position directly beneath him. He’s making this too easy. Well, no time like the present. He grins, putting aside heavy thoughts in favor of the matter at hand. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping in,” he calls merrily as he descends feet-first, falling on the startled supervillain’s head like a sack of bricks.

“Damn you!” the man swears as he crumples beneath the onslaught, body twisted awkwardly with one hand trapped under him against the floor. “Guards!”

Nightwing chuckles as he begins binding the man’s exposed hand. “If you’re waiting on an answer from them, you’re going to be calling for quite a while. I already, heh, _dropped in_ on your guards as well.” He gives a bright smiles as the villain continues to sputter angrily. Just as he reaches for Crane’s other hand, a loud crash causes both of them to jerk in surprise and turn toward the sound. To his stunned dismay, an entire wall of the partially constructed building collapses inward, pushed by what looks like a tsunami of… _green?_

 _Oh shit,_ Dick thinks, recognizing the writhing mass of vines for what it is. He rapidly rolls himself and his prisoner out of the way mere seconds before tons of animated plant matter and construction debris descend on the spot they had previously occupied.

_Ivy._

* * *

Red Robin twists, fighting the grip of the dozens of thick vines encompassing his body. Growling in frustration, he finally manages to use his teeth to loosen the cap of the bottle of weedkiller he keeps in one of the upper compartments of his bandoliers. Careful not to allow any of the toxin to enter his mouth, he nudges the bottle with his chin and then watches in satisfaction as the liquid within spills out and splashes over the vines in his vicinity, to devastating effect.

The plants release him and recoil as if in pain, an unearthly vegetative keening rising to fill the air. He leaps away, panting as he becomes aware of the numerous stinging cuts on his body, informing him of all the places his suit is now compromised. He hadn’t expected Ivy to be quite so furious when he’d engaged. Normally, she’s one of the most reasonable villains with whom the Bats regularly contend. It was almost as if she wasn’t angry at _him…_

Setting that thought aside to continue puzzling over in the back of his mind, Red Robin sets himself to taking in as much information as possible about the current situation. It appears the vines carried him into what looks like a construction site, the interior structural members exposed and awaiting the installation of electrical work and plumbing prior to being finished off in what will likely be a bank or high-end shop when complete.

 _Upper East Side,_ his mind supplies based on the direction the vines had been headed before they engulfed him completely and he lost sight of his surroundings. _Probably the new Gotham City Bank branch overlooking the reservoir. But why come to this place? What could Ivy possibly want here?_

His gaze stutters as it travels across some lumps on the ground. He identifies Nightwing hovering over Scarecrow, and sucks in a breath. The vigilante is trying to drag the half-bound villain away, and the villain is—

“No!” Red Robin whips out an R-shuriken and throws it with devastating speed and accuracy, but he’s a split second too late. Scarecrow cackles in mad glee as he plunges a syringe into Nightwing’s unprotected neck with his unbound hand, clearly having taken advantage of the man’s distraction while saving both their lives to access it from some hidden pocket.

Nightwing moves like lightning as he rapidly disarms the rogue and then finishes binding him, but he must know he’s working against the clock now. At least he probably dosed himself with fear gas antidote prior to engaging, considering that’s standard procedure for facing off against Scarecrow.

Still, it won’t help much if this is a new formula. Which he’s starting to suspect it is, considering the way Nightwing’s frozen in place now, gaze fixed on some point far above their heads. His lips work soundlessly, forming the word _no_ while he reaches out a trembling hand as though trying to grasp something… or someone _._

Red Robin is dragged away from speculation and concern for the older vigilante when a low, rich chuckle fills the air, causing the fine hairs on the back of his neck to rise. Ivy. And she sounds _unhinged._

_This is not going to be pretty._

Turning, he sees the villain emerging from the center of the mass of vines writhing in the debris of what was clearly once the western outer wall of the building. She’s beautiful, a terrible loveliness that she wields with the same precision as any other weapon in her arsenal. “Why, Jonathan, _there_ you are. I wondered how far you’d manage to scurry before I caught you.” Ivy smiles, and the effect is anything but nice. Around her, buds begin to swell on the vines filling the interior of the building. Dark flowers start to open all around them and Red Robin tenses, reaching for his rebreather before realizing, to his horror, it’s missing. Probably lost during the struggle with the vines earlier. “The poison you put into the water is causing my babies distress, so I thought I’d come find you and let you share their _pain!”_

As she speaks, the villain on the floor recoils, but he’s tied up with nowhere to go. No way to hide from the cloud of pollen which fills the air as all of the flowers open, releasing their terrible payload. Red Robin holds his breath, of course, but that isn’t a long-term solution. Three minutes max, and counting down. He needs to get himself and Nightwing out of the building as soon as possible, but first he has to take down Ivy.

Scarecrow apparently has far less control because he coughs almost immediately, then gasps in a lungful of air. A moment later, the room fills with the strong scent of an alpha in rut. Ivy laughs delightedly, watching with apparent malevolent pleasure as the man groans and begins to writhe on the ground.

_Oh, hell._

Well, now’s the moment to take the woman down, while she’s distracted. Red Robin feints as though to go toward Nightwing, and Ivy automatically commands her plants to block his path. Of course, he’s not actually headed in that direction at all. Which means she’s completely unprepared for him to tag her with a dart bearing the specialized pheromone blockers the Bats developed to neutralize her powers. Without her devastating plant-controlling pheromones, she’s significantly easier to take down—as a few moments of grappling demonstrate once again.

Once Ivy is secure and grimacing from her bindings, Red Robin quickly moves to check on Nightwing. The other vigilante has been worryingly silent ever since Scarecrow managed to inject him. He kneels by the man’s side where he’s now curled on the ground, anxiety ratcheting up another notch as he catches the near-silent rapid breathing and sees the minute tremble of his fingers.

The fear is already taking effect.

At least Nightwing’s wearing his rebreather so they don’t have to worry about him going into rut, as well. Red Robin taps out a quick message to Oracle on his communicator to let her know Poison Ivy and Scarecrow are down, but Nightwing is in need of medical attention. There’s no one available to help right now, so he’s going to have to lug the larger man to safety. Hopefully it doesn’t become necessary to tranquilize him.

And once he gets him back to the Nest, there’s no way he’s leaving the alpha alone with his fear, no matter how far apart they’ve drifted since the time the older man made it very clear who his family is… and who it isn’t.

Of course, he’s kept his distance since then, not wanting to impose his presence on people who have made it very clear they don’t want him around. Gotham’s big enough for him to patrol his section without interacting any more than necessary with the others—except during times of crisis like this.

On the bright side, that painful, soul-searing confrontation in which he’d lost both his identity and what he’d thought of as his family in one fell swoop had been helpful in one way. The rejection was enough to finally kill the last vestiges of his childhood crush on the admittedly gorgeous, incredibly appealing older man. Well… mostly. He gives a sharp jerk of his head. Now’s not the time for that. At least it’s a hell of a lot easier to resist pining when he _knows_ damn well how little he means to Dick Grayson, years of apparently false smiles and comradery aside.

Suppressing the stab of old hurt at the thought— _I really thought I was one of them, that I finally had a Pack_ —he catches a new scent which causes him to freeze.

_No._

But the rising scent, infinitely more pleasant than Crane’s rather acrid alpha stench, is unmistakable. Not only is Nightwing on liquid fear, he’s going into rut. But he’s clearly wearing his rebreather, so how…?

Red Robin’s gaze falls on the numerous rips in the other vigilante’s uniform, some of which are seeping blood. Of course. The pollen must have infiltrated his system through contact with his open wounds.

He blinks. Then slowly lowers his head to look at the many open wounds covering his own body. Suddenly holding his breath seems significantly less important.

_Well, shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Nightwing, easily beating up goons and going after Scarecrow:** “Damn, I sure wish I knew what Scarecrow’s big plan is so I could take him down and then go beg Timmy to spend time with me”  
>  **Scarecrow, pacing and ranting to himself:** *Conveniently blabs big plan*  
>  **Nightwing:** “Sweet!” *Takes down Scarecrow. Looks up in horror as wall of building collapses and Poison Ivy rides into the room on a raft of writhing vines* “Holy shit!” *Twitches in pain as Scarecrow takes advantage of his distraction to stab him with liquid fear* “Aw hell”  
>  **Poison Ivy, smirking:** “Have fun, boys!” *Blows sex pollen all over, laughs mockingly as Scarecrow begins humping floor*  
>  **Red Robin, finally struggling his way free of raft of vines:** “Wait, what? What’d I miss?” *Spots Nightwing, obviously in rut and on fear* “...SHIT”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter for quick references to various canonical traumatic events, including: minor character death, non consensual sex, non consensual medical procedures, and all the other horrible things that have happened to Dick Grayson over eighty years of comic history.

Dick’s trying not to shake as he stares at his parents’ bodies which lie crumpled together in a dark pool of blood. It’s gradually spreading, inching its way toward him and he can’t move, he can’t _move_. They’re still holding hands, never let go of each other even as they fell to their deaths. His throat closes on a silent, muffled sob as grief claws at his heart.

The vivid red of their costumes, the crowd’s screams in the background, and the meaty _thud_ of their bodies impacting the ground—it all feels so real. So much more real than the half-constructed building around him or the bound villain at his side, which have faded from his perceptions until they are only vague impressions with the hazy quality of a dream.

He just watched his parents fall and die again. Helpless to do anything to save them, _again._ The broken trapeze creaks softly as it sways back and forth overhead like a pendulum marking the time.

His parents aren’t moving. A dark stain slowly seeps through his mom’s brilliant auburn hair.

They’re dead. Never going to hold him again, laugh with him and tell jokes and listen to him when he babbles on about his day, sing him to sleep and comfort him when he cries… Another sob wracks his body, so harsh it’s painful. He welcomes it, wants to feel something, anything that isn’t this gnawing sense of grief and loss and loneliness that feels terrifyingly as though it will go on forever.

_Oh god no, oh no, no no no no—_

He can’t tear his eyes away from the terrible sight, heart clenching in horror as desolation crushes him and tears well unbidden in his eyes. The pain goes on and _on_ , building until he thinks he’s going to start to scream—or maybe he’s already screaming—and then his field of view is abruptly blocked by… black and red?

Dick blinks, hazily confused but welcoming any distraction from the endless, mournful anguish.

There’s a faint, enticingly sweet scent that evokes feelings of protectiveness and love and the softest stirrings of want. Familiar, and it brings with it a sense of guilt and sorrow all its own, but that’s nearly buried beneath the associated warmth and care.

A gentle voice is murmuring something in his ear and oh, he’s moving now. Gentle hands tug him to his feet and lead him away from the despair and loss which dog his steps. Those hands are a reminder that what he’s seeing isn’t happening, and he clutches at them, gripping hard and holding on for dear life.

_This isn’t real. Whatever I’m seeing right now, it isn’t really there._

As he walks, he tries not to see. But that’s Two Face coming at him, swinging a bat and laughing while Batman watches, helpless to intervene. A civilian dies because he made the wrong call, and he knows that he deserves every blow. Dark feelings of guilt and inadequacy well up and overwhelm his better judgement. He pauses, ready to take his beating.

 _I should have figured out it was a two-fold plan, I knew it was_ Two Face, _after all. I should have been better. No wonder Batman fired me. I deserved it after that mistake._

He’s not sure if he’s talking or if the broken voice confessing his own failings is just in his mind, but it hurts all the same. Confessions he hasn’t made outside the privacy of his own mind spill out, broken open by whatever Scarecrow stabbed into his body.

The hands pulling him forward pause for a brief moment, then resume tugging him onward as Two Face falls away behind them and then there’s a searing pain in his shoulder, Joker’s laughter resounding all around them because the villain _shot_ him.

The pain in his body is nothing compared to the agony in his heart when Batman fires him again, permanently this time. Throws him away because he wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t _good_ enough. “Fine, I’ll say it again,” Batman snarls, face twisted in an expression of anger and disgust. “You’re _fired,_ Dick. Get out of my cave.”

_My home. This was my home. If I don’t have this, then what am I? Who am I? Am I even still Pack anymore?_

“If that’s the way you want it,” he whispers, pain and rejection coursing through him, “see you around.”

_Batman, don’t do this. Damn it. Damn it!_

And now there’s another little boy in _his_ costume, laughing and somersaulting away only to disappear forever amidst chilling, insane laughter. “No! Jason!” he cries, trying to follow, but of course he’s far too late. _“No!”_

Strong hands hold him back, gentle but firm. Dick pauses, knowing on some level this is also a precious person he has to protect. Someone important, someone familiar… He almost remembers, and then it slips away again. His eyes widen as the vision before him morphs, and now there’s a different boy in the Robin suit, but he’s missing. Kidnapped.

Joker’s in front of him, crazed face gleaming with triumph, _taunting_ him. “I’m sure Papa Bat is on the way. Imagine how mad he’ll be if I’ve whacked _two_ boy wonders on the same day!” And _no…_ He’s saying he killed Robin. Killed _Tim._

_Oh, HELL no!_

The incandescent rage that burns through him in that moment sears away all his convictions and morals until nothing’s left but fury and the determination to end this threat once and for all. Too little, too late, now that _two_ of his precious Packmates have been stolen by this monster. _Jason, Tim, no! NO._ “All the deaths!” he snarls, backhanding the evil, snickering madman into the ground, where the horrible laughter finally stops. An expression of disbelief and something he doesn’t quite want to recognize as satisfaction blooms on that hated face as the rictus grin twists in shock. “All the pain! When is enough _enough,_ Joker?!” And he’s striking the body on the ground over and over again, blows driven by righteous rage and grief and remembrance.

His vision blurs. When it clears, he sees the Joker dead at his feet, Tim in the Robin suit staring at him over the body in horror and astonished disbelief.

Shame quenches what’s left of his rage, leaving him empty. He grabs his head. “What have I done?”

A disembodied voice answers soothingly, “Shh, no, Nightwing, you’re okay. He’s not here, we’re not _there_ anymore!”

He tilts his head, tries to focus on that voice, but it eludes him. He blinks, and reality shifts around him again leaving him sickeningly dizzy and disoriented, a growing sense of dread and fear the only constant from one scene to the next.

In front of him Tony Zucco steps out of prison a free man, and Bruce _lied_ to him, he _lied,_ and then Brother Blood is in his head and he’s pointing the laser canon at his teammates _oh god_ and this time he’s not stopping, he’s not _stopping—_

 _I don’t want to, I don’t_ want _to, I’m supposed to_ save _lives but I just keep failing!_

“Breathe, Nightwing. _Dick!_ Just _breathe!”_ The desperate sounding call is distant, but he knows that voice, longs to answer. He inhales sharply, managing to fill his lungs with a single desperate, painful breath.

But now he’s seeing the nightmare mess of Trigun in Raven’s body, attacking Starfire at their wedding and planting the seeds that tore their relationship apart. Failed. He failed her.

_I never manage to keep anyone for long._

And she’s torn away, gone off to recover and heal without the reminder of him in her life. His pain is nothing in comparison to hers, and now he’s hearing a dead little girl in his apartment and there’s nothing he can give her but justice, and it’s not _enough._ He’s feeling the scorching heat of the fire as Haly’s Circus _burns_ around him, the screams of the dying in his ears, and he _can’t save everyone._ The brightly illuminated tent filled with fleeing bystanders and echoes of shrieks loud in his ears are horribly familiar, merging with memory and reminding him of when his parents, his _parents—_

 _Oh god no no no, I can’t, I_ can’t, _it’s too much!_

And now Blockbuster’s there, gloating and obscene in his malevolent certainty that he can destroy everything and everyone Dick loves. He’s bragging about people he’s killed just for _talking_ to Dick, and he _knows who he really is._ He’s never going to _stop,_ he’s going to go for the _Pack_ next, and it’s all because Dick failed to save someone else, _again._

And Tarantula is lifting the gun and this time instead of stepping out of the way Dick’s hand wraps around hers, and he _helps her_ pull the trigger. He gags, choking on his tears, and he’s on his back as she moves above him in the darkness. “Querido,” she whispers in a cruel facsimile of love, terrifying, sinking her claws into his sides while rain falls from the black sky and slides down his cheeks like tears, like blood.

 _I don’t want it, I don’t want_ you, _don’t do this,_ please _don’t do this…_

“No,” he tries, voice broken, already knowing it will be futile. “Don’t _touch_ me.”

Dimly, he’s aware that someone else is at his side, has stopped moving entirely at his words, grip tightening on his shoulder. “What the _fuck?”_ the person whispers, and leans in close to smooth his hair off his forehead. He whimpers, twisting away from Tarantula and what she’s _doing_ to press himself against the man who smells safe, smells like _home_ instead _._

“I told her _no.”_ He hears a muttered, savage-sounding curse before he’s swept away again.

Now he’s dragging survivors out of what’s left of Blüdhaven’s ruin, forcing his arms to lift and his legs to move as long as he can until the radiation sickness finally brings him to his knees, broken and defeated in the wreckage of the city he swore to save, and it’s not _enough._ The pain in his body is no match for the agony of failing so many, so _many_ innocent lives. It’s never enough, _he’s_ never enough.

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…_

And then he’s buried alive, and it’s not Raptor because Raptor’s _dead_ so someone else was the killer all along and he was wrong wrong _wrong_ again. How many people have died for his mistakes? He closes his eyes in the darkness, ready to give in and just, finally, go to sleep—surely he’s earned some rest by now?

But he hears a voice in the darkness begging him to keep going, to press on. It’s a voice he can’t fail, one he has to listen to. Someone who matters, someone precious.

At that soft, gentle murmur that feels safe he opens his eyes again, and immediately realizes he shouldn’t have. Because he recognizes his surroundings as Arkham, and not the visitors’ areas. Dick’s strapped down to a table and the International Club of Villains is planning to lobotomize him. He can’t move, the venom of the blue scorpion is too strong, but he can _hear_ and he knows the so-called doctors with their tools are getting closer. He’s _screaming_ inside and this can’t be real, can it, because it didn’t get this far in real life before he escaped—

He fights it, battles the visions and sensations that feel so damningly realistic, and is rewarded for his efforts by a strange dual awareness. For a moment, he can see both the walls of Arkham and a rooftop in what looks like Crime Alley. Can hear the fake doctors’ voices and Red Robin, hoarsely whispering a litany of reassurance and promises that he’s safe, he’s going to be fine, no one’s going to be allowed to hurt him…

_Tim._

Recognition and the beginnings of hope flood his mind and he struggles to hold on to his knowledge of what’s real. To Tim, who’s clutching him so desperately close, voice ragged from trying so hard to call him back from the nightmare that keeps dragging him back down.

But with the thought, a new wave of hallucinations sweeps reality away and now Red Hood’s shooting Damian in the chest, ignoring Dick’s horrified cries, and then turning and stabbing Tim in the heart with a batarang. Watches, uncaring, as the smaller vigilante at his feet jerks and then stills, blood pooling on the ground beneath him.

_Tim, no! Oh god no, NO!_

They’re falling, all his younger Packmates are falling apart before his eyes and Bruce is gone and he’s frozen, he can do _nothing._ He holds out his hand to save Jason and the beta stares at it, then shakes his head and lets himself fall from the train into the dark water below while Dick screams denial.

Everything’s falling apart. _He’s_ breaking, shaking apart under the burdens that have grown too heavy to bear.

 _Not good enough, I’m not, I’m not_ enough, _have to be better, have to be_ perfect, _but I_ can’t—

He takes Robin from Tim, wanting to show him it’s his turn to fly, but ends up pushing him out of the nest altogether. And Tim _falls._ As the scene plays out around him, he recognizes with a sickening shock that it’s familiar, that he’s somehow repeated the same mistake Bruce made with him only this time he did it to Tim.

Every decision he can make is the wrong one and he’s trapped, so overwhelmed, needs help, needs _Tim_. He tries to stop him as he walks away. “I didn’t mean for you to _leave,_ Tim. Didn’t mean to push you away. I’m so _sorry.”_ But his pleas fall on deaf ears and he’s alone in the end.

_I deserve to be alone. All I ever do is fail to live up to what’s needed from me._

“Just hold on, we’re almost there,” the voice in his ear sounds relieved and the grip on his waist is so tight, reassuring in its steadiness. He tries to cling on to the sensations and sounds of what he’s almost sure is real life, but there’s a little homeless boy bleeding out in his arms after being shot because _he_ was gathering intel and now the kid’s dead, he’s _dead_ and it’s his fault.

_My fault, my fault, it was all my fault._

He sees his mom and dad again and it’s nothing like he wanted, it’s the worst kind of nightmare. Because he’s being attacked by his own and Tim’s parents, the Black Lantern’s power animating and corrupting them. It’s horrible and the only way to survive is to freeze themselves so there won’t be any signs of life for the Black Lanterns to target but now Tim’s not waking up, he’s _not waking up_.

_Oh no, Tim! Wake up, please wake up. I can’t lose you too. Please?_

He sobs, overwhelmed with too much loss and grief to hold it in any longer.

“I’m here, Dick, I’m right here. You’re okay, we’re both okay, I won’t leave you, I _swear…”_ The whispered promises sound like Tim, but he’s gone. He _left_ and Dick put Bruce in the Lazarus Pit because he wanted everything to be okay but that is _not_ Bruce, whatever came out of the Pit is _not him._ And he’s fighting with everything he has and it isn’t going to be _enough_ —

A sharp stab in his neck and he groans, searching for the new enemy, but…

The person clutching at him, no, half-supporting his weight, is short and muscular and slim and so achingly familiar and welcome. Red Robin. Safety he recognizes and knows, _loves,_ down to his bones. The monsters from his memory fall mercifully silent around them, auditory hallucinations apparently laid to rest by whatever was in that syringe. Some of the tension eases from his frame and he closes his eyes, shuddering, trusting his Packmate to lead him the rest of the way to safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dick, tripping balls on fear gas and sex pollen:** “I see the abyss, and it’s coming for me” *Attempts to claw his way out of reality through the floor*  
>  **Tim, panicking but outwardly calm:** “That’s—wow, you’re strong. Uh, let’s get you somewhere safe, yeah?” *Feels sad because he was rejected from the Pack and Dick probably would rather have literally anyone else helping him right now*  
>  **Dick, lost in nightmarish hallucinations:** *Follows Tim’s scent because he smells like love and safety* “Mmm”  
>  **Tim, cradling Dick in his arms and staring, wide-eyed as Dick nuzzles into his neck:** “Um”  
> *  
> Quotes this chapter adapted from Nightwing Vol. 2 #101, Joker’s Last Laugh #6, Nightwing Vol. 2 #93


	3. Chapter 3

Tim shoulders his way through the entrance to the Nest, adjusting his grip on the man in his arms to help guide him in. Dick stumbles forward, clearly doing his best to cooperate despite the disorientation and hallucinations Tim is painfully sure the other man is still experiencing, even with the additional dose of antidote he administered once they were finally in a secure enough location for him to risk slowing down.

The hurried, awkward flight across the rooftops was brutal, requiring tremendous effort to keep Nightwing moving while listening to the man’s heartbreaking confessions and pleas, unable to help.

“We’re here, Dick,” he whispers soothingly, hating the implications of the soft, almost inaudible whimpering that started up about five minutes ago and hasn’t stopped for longer than a few seconds at a time ever since. At least it’s better than the screaming and one-sided conversations from earlier, the contents of which he is determinedly not going to think about right now because he has to hold it together for at least a little while longer.

_God, Dick, I had no idea… but I should have._

His own problems and cases have occupied most of his time over the past couple of years, but he can’t help but believe that if he’d ever stopped to really think about it, he might have realized how far from okay Dick Grayson really is. He’s not sure what to do about the knowledge he has gained, which includes some things he’s sure the other man never wanted him to know. Maybe never wanted anyone to know.

 _I hate this,_ he thinks, a horribly protective tenderness rising in his heart at the thought of some of the traumas he now knows still haunt the other man. _I can’t… I don’t think I can hold myself back from doing anything I can to comfort him right now. He’s going to_ see _how much I still care about him. He’ll know exactly how pathetic I really am… if he doesn’t already._

With a sinking feeling, he realizes he’s actually almost okay with that. All of Nightwing’s secret vulnerabilities were laid out for him tonight, after all. It’s only fair to share some of his own, even if it burns.

If only Gotham wasn’t in the middle of a crisis, he could take Nightwing to the Cave and be done with this for now. He could leave for a while and take a little time to think about it, get some perspective before dealing with everything the other man unintentionally revealed tonight. But Alfred’s alone at the Cave right now and the old man may well be needed later if any of the others run into trouble and require medical evac. Besides, Red Robin is affected as well, at least by the pollen. Might as well quarantine the pair of them together while he works on a cure.

But his first priority has to be making sure Nightwing is stable. Poison Ivy’s concoctions are hell on the body and Scarecrow’s fear is a living nightmare. He’s not actually sure what kind of cumulative effect the two might have when combined, and that thought terrifies him.

 _I’m here for you now,_ he thinks, wincing as he remembers some more of the things the other man whispered as he hurried him across the rooftops. _And once this is over and we’re both lucid, I think we need to talk._

Quickly stripping off his own cowl, mask, and gauntlets in hopes of helping Dick recognize him, Tim murmurs soft, reassuring nonsense as he slowly reaches for the alpha’s mask. It seemed to help earlier when he talked, even if he couldn’t break through the hallucinations entirely. “Hey there, Dick. It’s me, Tim. I’ve got you, you’re safe. That mask looks uncomfortable, wanna get it off? We’re in my safehouse. I promise nothing’s going to hurt you here.”

The other man flinches, then holds still for him with a low groan that sounds painful.

The brilliant blue eyes revealed when the mask is peeled away are unfocused, pupils blown wide with terror, arousal, or maybe both. Suddenly, that gaze sharpens, focusing on a point behind Tim. “Don’t you dare touch him!” the alpha growls, reaching out quickly to grip his arm. He tugs him forward, wheeling to place himself between the omega and whatever imaginary danger he’s confronting now.

From everything he’s seen and heard over the past half an hour while dragging the other vigilante’s uncoordinated bulk back to the Nest, there are a hell of a lot of possibilities as to which particular nightmare memory is on replay this time. There are apparently way too many people who’ve hurt Dick horribly over the years. His heart clenches at the realization of what the alpha’s been through, all while trying to shoulder the burden of everyone else’s problems along with his own.

The responsibility was clearly just too much, the acrobat trying to juggle too many impossible tasks at the same time… and failing, in the end. In trying to keep so many balls in the air, he’d dropped some. There’s always been a disconnect between Dick having kicked him out of the Pack and his apparent affection for him. Tim had thought it was just the other man’s natural charm and good nature that he’d taken too seriously and wrongly believed to be genuine. But now it’s been proven _real_ by some of the other memories which made it very clear the alpha _does_ , in fact, give a shit about Tim.

It doesn’t make things _okay,_ not really, but… Hearing the other man’s broken voice as he begged for Tim to wake up, to breathe, to _be alive again…_

Whatever he was seeing, it’s very clear how much he cares. As that knowledge settles in his heart like a key falling heavily into a lock, he knows it’s a starting point. If he was wrong about having been thrown away and cast out of the Pack by Dick, what else has he overlooked?

It’s been many months since either Damian or Jason treated him like something they scraped off the bottom of their shoes. In fact, the pup has been joining him on missions with the Titans for a while now and making what he suddenly suspects may have been tentative overtures of friendship masked by mild insults. And the beta keeps showing up at his safehouses with one or the other of his mates, bringing him food and roughly tending his injuries while telling him he’s an idiot.

_I thought they were plotting against me somehow, but looking back on it, it’s totally possible they were just… treating me like Pack?_

Tim slowly blinks. Huh. Well, that also goes a long way to explaining the way Bruce keeps stalling his attempts to hand the company back over to an actual Wayne. Although it’s entirely possible that’s just the older omega being lazy and shirking his responsibilities. But… There’ve been instances of updated equipment and medical supplies showing up in his safehouses. He’d thought it was probably Babs, worried it might be Ra’s… Now that he’s really thinking about it, he realizes it’s very much the way Bruce has always liked to look after his Pack, quietly supplying their needs.

_Maybe I’m still in the Pack? Damn, I guess I should probably stop avoiding them and screening their calls._

It’s a bizarre realization that makes him feel a little wobbly, like he just might float away on a light breeze.

_I’m so sorry Dick’s suffering like this, but he’s said some things I think I really needed to hear. Hopefully I can help him now, too._

“Shh,” Tim soothes, running his hand along Dick’s tense back, and then cups the man’s cheek to gently turn his handsome face away from whatever hallucination has him growling at thin air right now. He needs to analyze a blood sample from both of them before he can do anything substantial to fix this. “Just let me…” He carefully leads the other man over to the lab section of his base, relieved when he comes willingly. Dick barely twitches as he collects the blood sample, eyes following shadows tracking dangers only he can see.

Once the analysis is running, Tim rapidly takes stock of their situation. Dick is suffering from drug-induced rut, complicated by liquid fear of unknown strength. At the moment, the fear seems to have gone down to a more manageable level. At least the alpha is responding well to Tim, although it's been unclear if he actually recognized him most of the time.

Tim’s initial thought was probably not, or the other man wouldn't have been acting like he was around one of his actual Packmates. No, at first he’d believed the alpha was likely just responding to the fact that Tim’s an omega, and rapidly going into heat. Now, though…

Now it’s obvious Dick still considers Tim to be one of his Packmates. Cares about him enough to worry about him and call his name while under the influence of liquid fear. Trusts him deeply enough to follow him blindly, knowing he’ll lead him somewhere safe.

Of course, _safe_ is a relative term, considering they’re still rapidly descending into drug-induced heat and rut cycles of unknown intensity and duration.

Which definitely complicates things. They both have incredible control and some acquired tolerance, so the pollen isn’t affecting them as quickly as it did Crane, but it’s only a matter of time before even their formidable defenses are overcome.

 _The last thing we need right now is nonconsensual sex to complicate the mess of our relationship even more. Especially considering…_ His hands tense, a wave of anger and distress sweeping through him as he tries hard not to think about some of the truths Dick let slip. No time for that right now.

But yeah, like _hell_ is he going to be yet another person who took something the alpha wasn’t offering and didn’t want to give.

He’s going to need to take care of both of them, and physically he’s not quite sure he’ll be able to handle it. Heck, he forgets to eat and drink often enough during a normal heat, let alone one induced by some of Ivy’s nastier pollens.

But everyone else who might take Dick off his hands is busy. He’ll just have to make do. There’s no other choice. Tim coaxes the alpha over to the medical area next, figuring he might as well tend to those injuries while awaiting the results of the analysis.

“No,” Dick shakes his head, tensing as Tim tries to help him sit. “No! I need to be ready, Timmy, _he_ might come back.”

_Huh. Well, I guess he definitely does know who I am right now. That’s helpful._

“Okay,” Tim answers agreeably, humoring the alpha in hopes of gaining his cooperation. “Then how about you stand guard while I take care of your injuries?” Seeing the other man’s brow furrow as though to demur, he continues, wheedling. “You’ll be able to protect me better if you’re physically in good shape.”

The alpha blinks hard before nodding, and _god,_ the thought of being able to protect Tim is what got him to agree. His heart hurts at the revelation. “Okay. Yeah, okay.”

The taller man allows him to begin carefully stripping off his gear, starting with the utility belt. The gauntlets follow, although he refuses to relinquish the escrima sticks. He continues to hold them defensively, staring fixedly at a dimly lit corner, protective watchfulness in every line of his stance.

_Thank goodness this doesn’t seem to be the worst concoction Crane ever came up with. Or maybe it’s similar enough to previous versions that our cure took the edge off. He’s almost lucid right now. I don’t think I even need to restrain him, which is a huge relief. I just wish I could’ve gotten him that second dose of antidote sooner, to save him the pain of dealing with the fear for so long on the trip here._

Tim moves slowly as he lifts up on his toes to reach over the alpha’s shoulders and disarm the still-familiar traps in his uniform, then digs his fingertips in beneath the thin, kevlar-reinforced material to begin dragging the tight suit down the taller man’s body. His breath catches and quickens as his actions reveal gorgeous, broad shoulders and a muscular chest, unfairly well defined six pack and a light dusting of dark hair trailing down to…

He snaps his gaze back up to Dick’s face, flushing. He’s startled to see those dark blue eyes are focused now, staring at him with a scorching expression of longing and naked desire.

_God, that’s hot._

His own midsection is aching now, heat kindling in his core and _want_ spreading through him as everything in him yearns to reach out and touch the alpha, the beautiful man in front of him.

_Oh boy. Guess we’re already getting close to our limit. Awesome._

He risks a glance over to the computer. Analysis fifty percent complete, great. Well, at least he can limit temptation slightly. “Just gonna leave the bottom half of your suit on for now then, yeah?” Tim bites his lip, closing his eyes for a moment as a wave of desire crashes through him, tightening his core and rendering him momentarily unable to think, let alone speak. When he opens them again, Dick’s looking at him, expression _intent._

“You okay, Baby Bird?” The other man’s voice is low and sends shivers through him.

“I’m fine. Just let me take care of you right now.” He wants to bite his tongue at his wording as the aroused alpha scent filling the room suddenly spikes. Well, at least being horny actually seems to be reducing the fear symptoms for the alpha. His clarity appears to be returning the more turned on he gets.

That’s an interesting drug interaction. He’ll have to note it down later once they’ve made it through this mess.

_Although I’m getting the feeling that whatever’s going to happen tonight might not be something we want to write down in a report… Still. I’ll knock myself out before I let myself take advantage of him while he’s drugged._

Another wave of desire so strong it’s painful crashes through him and he whimpers.

* * *

Tim’s slim fingers skim lightly over his bruised, sensitized skin and Dick shudders. Every touch seems laced with fire, each stroke going straight to his growing desire. He’s been pollinated, he knows that. He won’t hurt Tim, he’d _never._ No matter what terrible images he’s been seeing on repeat over the past minutes—hours? He has no sense of time right now, only a series of disjointed memories.

Crane, on the ground, a _literal_ pain in his neck. Then Ivy and Red Robin, raised voices, followed by a horror show of some of his worst memories all mitigated by a sweet, inviting scent and soft voice, along with gentle touches that anchored him in what was real.

Tim.

The shorter man reaches around his shoulders, rubbing something into his skin that spreads a sensation of cool relief wherever it touches. So good. He leans forward, resting his head on the omega’s shoulder and then nuzzling into his throat, scenting him. He smells _really_ good.

Too good.

Dick twitches back, trying to get some space between them as he finally realizes what, exactly, the delicious scent is that called him back from his nightmares. Tim’s going into _heat._

_Shit._

“Ivy?” he whispers, brows drawing together in concern as he takes stock of himself and finds his symptoms aren’t exactly congruent with Crane’s usual attacks. “Pollen?” Hallucinations and a strong sense of anxiety are par for the course with fear gas or liquid fear, sure, but the situation he has going on in his jock is definitely _not_ something he’d normally attribute to the Scarecrow. He grimaces at the thought, wildly unenthusiastic about ever associating Jonathan Crane with arousal.

_Ew._

Tim brightens, looking relieved. “You’re back, good. Yeah, Ivy got us both before I brought her down. Crane managed to tag you, as well. Sorry I wasn’t fast enough to stop him.” He looks away, scenting of guilt.

Well, that’s silly. “You did just fine. After all, you managed to save us both.” Especially if his impressions of Tim taking care of him while he was half-crazed suffering from liquid fear are correct, which he’s pretty sure they are. “And if I know you, you’re already working on a cure. Right?”

He glances around, realizing for the first time he’s in an unfamiliar space. And yet… It’s a slick setup, with impressive computers and a medical area on this level, and visible sublevels going down to what looks like a garage with some familiar cars and motorcycles. This must be Red Robin’s Nest. His heart races giddily at finally being allowed access to this part of Tim’s life, even if it’s because they’re in a crisis and there was no better option.

 _Calm down,_ he tells his libido sternly. _He’s not interested. Besides, he’s taken._ There’s no way he wants to cause trouble for Tim and his boyfriend. And throwing himself at the omega in a pollen-induced frenzy of rut and shame would definitely not be a step forward in his plan to find a foothold in the younger man’s life again. More like an excuse for him to run the other way and never look back.

“Yeah,” Tim answers, squirming slightly. He’s clearly uncomfortable, and Dick frowns.

“Don’t you want to call Superboy?” Surely they’re had the relationship talk about what to do during sex pollen situations. Even if they don’t want to go beyond whatever limits they’ve agreed on beforehand, just having his boyfriend here would probably help Tim feel safer and more comfortable.

Tim’s staring at him like he’s gone slightly insane. “Uh, why would I call Kon?” He blinks, then shakes his head in apparent bemusement before checking his computer. “According to Oracle, the worst villains have been brought in now and the others are just rounding up the D-listers. I don’t think it’s worth calling metas down on Gotham for—” he scrolls down, reading the screen, and stifles a snort, “—Polka-Dot Man, Crazy Quilt, Calendar Man, and Condiment King.”

Dick frowns. “That’s a relief, but not what I meant.” He slowly raises his brows. “Don’t you want your boyfriend here, to help deal with…?” He trails off awkwardly, gesturing ineffectually toward their midsections as he feels his face heat. The idea of Tim and Kon taking care of each other while he waits his rut out alone in the spare bedroom is painful, but the thought of Tim, hurting and alone, is worse. He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of… laughter?

“My _what?”_ Tim stares at him in disbelief, then chuckles again, shaking his head. “Kon’s my best friend, but no. He’s with Cassie.”

Dick just stares at him, world tilting on its axis as entire vistas of possibility open up before him. “Oh,” he manages after a moment, trying to reign in his physical response to the news that the man in front of him is apparently available. “My mistake.” _Still not interested,_ he scolds himself. 

Tim shrugs agreeably just as the computer emits a timely beep. He glances over, then gives a tired smile. “Looks like we’ve got a formula. Pretty standard liquid fear, with a minor change that we can account for easily enough to make an antidote. No wonder you got over it so fast. Between the regular cure you took before exposure and your system’s built-up tolerance, you’ve probably almost cleared it naturally already. And… huh. Wow. Looks like whatever Ivy gave us, it’s more than ten times as strong when inhaled versus dermal exposure or injection.”

Dick tilts his head, brows rising. “That’s not her usual method at all. Most of the chemicals she develops to attack us are more powerful on skin contact because she knows we’ll be wearing rebreathers.”

Tim raises a brow. “I guess we lucked out, then. She wasn’t after _us_ this time. Although now it makes sense why Crane went insane and we’re just experiencing mild heat and rut symptoms.” As he finishes speaking, he frowns, tensing in what looks like pain, then smiles ruefully. “Well, relatively mild.”

The scent of hurt omega in need, of _Tim,_ rises and it’s all Dick can do to hold himself back from reaching out for the other man, pulling him in close and taking _care_ of him.

He clears his throat, trying not to shift too obviously. From the smirk on the omega’s face, his attempt to hide his reaction doesn’t work. Giving in, he reaches down to adjust his jock. Shame has no place in a sex pollen situation. “Well, what kind of timeframe are we looking at on an antidote?”

The other man doesn’t answer, and Dick glances up to see he’s just staring at him, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. His scent is rising and he’s breathing hard.

“Tim?” Dick’s face slides into an involuntary smirk as the omega blinks, then blushes prettily and rushes over to his computer lab where he extracts a couple of vials.

 _Interesting._ Hope unfurls, along with guilt. He shouldn’t want Tim. Even if the other man is having a physical response due to the induced heat, that doesn’t mean he’s actually interested.

“The antidotes are just finished synthesizing.” The other man hands two of the vials to Dick and keeps one for himself, fitting it to a syringe before expertly injecting it. “Fear and rut for you, heat for me. I think we’ll still have some light symptoms, but nothing too overwhelming. Definitely nothing mentally compromising,” he adds, a note of relief in his voice.

 _Thank goodness. Unlikely as the possibility of anything happening here between us is, I would want it to be_ us _choosing it and not the pollen._

Dick carefully injects his own antidotes, wondering if it’s just psychosomatic or if he really does start to feel better immediately. “I think we should keep an eye on each other anyway, just in case.” He tries not to tense, half expecting the other man to throw him out or disappear on him now that the situation has stabilized.

_Please don’t run away again. I know I hurt you, and I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you?_

But Tim surprises him, glancing up with a slight, rueful smile. “That sounds like a good idea. And Dick…” He bites his lip, then continues. “I’ve really missed you.” He smells hesitant, as though uncertain of his reception.

This time, nothing in the world can stop Dick from reaching out and taking him in his arms, holding him tight and breathing in his incredible scent. Tim shudders in his arms, and that’s it. Whatever happens now—even if this is turns out to be a mistake, he has no regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim, stripping Dick to tend to his wounds:** “Damn you’re hot” *Blinks, realizes implications of everything Dick let slip during his fear-induced hallucinations* “Wait, you DO give a shit about me”  
>  **Dick, perking up and suddenly lucid again:** “Damn right I do! You smell REALLY good right now, you know that?” *Begins to rub his face along Tim’s neck*  
>  **Tim, gulping:** *Jabs antidotes to sex pollen into both of them* “Yoink!”  
>  **Dick, pouting:** “Ow! Wait, if we have sex now, it’s totally voluntary, right?”  
>  **Tim, shrugging:** “Yep”  
>  **Dick, leaning in with a predatory growl:** “Good”


	4. Chapter 4

Tim buries his face in Dick’s shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around the taller man’s neck and breathing in his incredible scent. It’s familiar and carries with it a sense of longed-for safety and _Pack,_ something he’d thought slipped through his fingers like smoke a long time ago and is only just beginning to accept might be a real possibility again.

Dick’s scent is also thrillingly aroused, tinged with want and need and something that settles into his belly, hot and heavy and achingly good. He fills his lungs, exhilarating in the closeness and sensation of all that hot, exposed, golden skin over hard, sculpted muscle.

“Tim,” Dick whispers, voice so low and gravelly it’s almost unrecognizable.

_Huh?_

He leans his head back, blinking, to look at the alpha who is staring down at him with an expression of sheer unadulterated desire, barely leashed. It’s only then he realizes he’s running his hands over the other man’s body, stroking and caressing his magnificent form. One of his hands is still on Dick’s broad, glorious shoulders while the other seems to have unaccountably drifted down to gently cup his magnificent ass.

_Whoops._

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, beginning to pull back from the embrace. _Well, this is awkward…_

Dick’s arms tighten around his waist as the alpha curls possessively, protectively over him, pressing them together impossibly tightly. “I don’t mind,” he says huskily, right in Tim’s ear. That voice and hot breath on his sensitive skin send a shiver of arousal through him and he gasps softly, flushing as he realizes his own heat scent has intensified and he’s definitely pretty far into the pseudo heat if his physical symptoms are any indication. “I want this, want you.”

_Holy shit._

The thrill of arousal at those words in that voice almost carries him away, but Tim forces himself to _think._ He’s in pseudo heat, yes, but at least it’s just physical symptoms, none of the terrible compellent componant of Ivy’s pollens that strips away the will and induces sex. No, this is all _them._ Every inch of them is molded together and Tim curses the jockstrap beneath his uniform that prevents him from feeling this.

 _I can’t believe this is happening. Wait,_ is _this happening? Or is it a just taking care of arousal thing? I’m not sure I can take it if that’s all this is._

After everything they’ve been through tonight, all he wants is to fall into bed with Dick Grayson. This is his first crush, the man he’s looked up to and admired all his life. Of _course_ he wants him. The one he loves, wholly and incontrovertibly even during the worst times, always knowing the older man would be forever out of his reach. It’s been enough just to be able to look up and watch him fly, to bask in the tiny moments of his reflected brilliance. Even though being rejected by him back when Dick took Robin away and, as he thought back then, cast him out of the Pack, pushed him lower than he’s ever been.

But if tonight’s shown him anything, it’s that Dick Grayson is only human, nuanced and broken as the rest of them. Maybe more so because he has to present the façade of perfection.

 _I can forgive him. Hell, who am I kidding? I forgave him a long time ago. I’ve just been hiding out and staying away because I’m too afraid of being hurt again to trust his smiles and easy affection. But now… I’ve seen the depth of his love and I don’t think he’s going to throw me away so easily a second time. Not on purpose, not if we just learn to_ talk _to each other about what actually matters. And… I’m old enough to really be there for him now. Shoulder some of the burden. Maybe it'll be easier if we bear it together._

The alpha’s hands are tugging at his uniform, and _yes—_ but this is all moving a little too fast. He needs to be careful, or he might just break for good if this all turns out to be nothing more than an adrenaline-fueled regret in the morning.

“Dick, if we’re going to do this, I need to know it’s real.” The man is his arms stops mouthing soft kisses along his throat and stills, listening. “Is this just sex, or do you want something more?”

The hands on his body tighten possessively. “More,” the alpha growls. “As much as you’re willing to give me.”

 _Wow. I can’t believe this is even happening right now, but I am_ so _into it._

“Well, that’s good. I’m…” Tim gasps as the man holding him rolls their hips together. “Oh god that feels good,” he gasps, then blinks, forcing himself to focus. He continues, nerves rising along with his haze of arousal but unwilling to continue any further without getting some important things settled first. “I’ve felt what it’s like to be thrown away by you—no, don’t interrupt, I _know_ now that’s not how you meant it, but it’s how I _felt_ —and I need to know that’s not going to happen again.”

The arms around him squeeze gently as the alpha lets out a long, shuddering breath that’s perilously close to a sob. “Tim, _Timmy,_ I’m so sorry. I thought I was doing what was best for everyone, still do, but I hurt you by going about it the wrong way. I always… I _always_ do that when I try to get close to someone. I’m not sure I _can_ promise you not to, I don’t think I know _how.”_

Tim frowns, puzzling over what he knows about the alpha’s close relationships. Friendships, romantic relationships, family… There’s a long history of damaged and broken relationships. Thinking about the unfiltered words spoken from the depths of Dick’s regrets, fears, and heartbreak earlier, he thinks he sees the thread that connects them all.

_Oh, Dick._

His throat closes. It’s achingly familiar, because it’s pretty much the same thing that’s tanked Tim’s own relationships, time and time again. “Dick, I think it can work. We just have to let each other in and actually _talk_ about the things that hurt. Trust each other with the truth and share our burdens. I’ve never had a good track record with that, but I think… If you try to give me your trust, I can try to do the same.”

If he and Dick manage to salvage a functional friendship or maybe _more_ out of the wreck their relationship has been for the past couple of years, it’ll be worth it. Even if the thought of exposing his deepest fears and regrets is terrifying. He’s seen the depths of Dick’s heart now, and he knows he can trust the other man with himself.

Dick’s shaking his head slowly, and his heart sinks. But there’s hope in those dark blue eyes, even if it’s mostly hidden beneath worry and uncertainty. “Tim, I don’t know—” He has a look on his face now like he thinks he has to protect Tim from the darkness, the broken places inside him. “I can’t put that on you. I’m supposed to be there for _you,_ not the other way around.”

Tim snorts, because that’s bullshit. He takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the pheromones that tell him to skip all this boring talk and go straight to the good stuff. _Not yet._ “You told me once I was your equal,” he narrows his eyes, challenging. “Now prove you meant it.”

Silence falls between them except for their heavy breathing. The tension builds to a knife’s edge, the entire future of their relationship hanging on the alpha’s answer.

_Please. I’m reaching out to you here, taking a leap of faith. Don’t let me fall._

Dick takes a shaky breath. “Tim, “ he starts, then stops, shoulders lowering. “I’m not fine.”

 _Thank you for this,_ Tim thinks. “I know, Dick. I’ve got you.” He rubs soothing circles into the alpha’s shoulders as he lets out a shaky breath of his own, overwhelmed with the tumultuous events of the evening. This feels like enough emotional progress for the night, especially considering he’s pretty sure he’s going to make a mess in his pants if he doesn’t get them off soon. Now _that_ sounds like a good idea. He smirks. “How would you feel about some life-affirming sex as a reward for making ourselves deal with all these emotions?”

Dick snorts, grinning into his shoulder. “Tim,” he says, chuckling softly, “are you trying to use _operant conditioning_ on me?”

 _Busted. Guess it_ was _pretty obvious._

Tim shrugs, unrepentant. “Is it working?” Dick tilts his head, then slowly nods, still grinning. “Anyway, I’m using it on myself, too. I think if we start to associate long, emotionally cathartic discussions with the comfort and release of sex, it’ll help reinforce that talking is a _good_ thing.” He huffs. “I mean, it’s _us._ We obviously need all the help we can get on that front.”

“I completely agree,” Dick purrs, hands smoothing up his sides, intent clear. It’s possible he’s only going along with Tim’s reasoning to get to the bedroom faster. Well, whatever. They can work more on their conditioning—er, communication—later. They’re clearly on the right track, anyway.

Right now, he has _other_ plans.

Tim smirks, stretching to press against the taller man in all kinds of interesting ways, causing them both to groan. “Perfect. Uh…” he gasps as Dick takes advantage of their positioning to drop his hands down to cup his ass, pulling him close and grinding them together deliciously. “While lab-sex sounds fun in _theory,_ it usually ends up with spilled samples, chemical burns in weird places—you wouldn’t _believe_ how cold those metal tables are against sensitive skin—” Dick laughs huskily in his ear and he manages to stop babbling. “Anyway. Yeah. Bedroom?”

“This time, sure.” And Dick _picks him up_ like he weighs nothing and strides toward the elevator, exposed muscles of his top half flexing.

_Oh god, that’s so hot. Also, love that he’s already planning for next time. But no way am I letting him talk me into lab sex at any point._

Tim directs him up to the bedroom and then Dick lowers him onto the bed, kissing him tenderly as he presses him into the soft, rumpled blankets. The pent-up arousal and heat that’s been building ever since Ivy released her pollen rolls through him in a wave as he finally, _finally_ releases his tight control and lets go. “Dick, I need—” he gasps, not even sure what he’s trying to ask for.

The alpha hovering over him smiles, eyes dancing with a banked heat and so much love it’s nearly unbearable. “I’ve got you, Tim,” he says, and it sounds like a promise. And then he leans in for another kiss, quick, skilled hands making short work of disarming the traps on the Red Robin suit and then stripping it off. The under armor and jockstrap follow quickly and he moans at the sudden freedom and sensation of cool air on hot, sensitized skin. Then he’s gasping Dick’s name as those hands move over his body, hot lips pressing kisses to his skin as the other man makes a thorough exploration of all the places that make him whimper with pleasure.

“Oh god,” he whispers as he feels that hot mouth around him. “Oh _god.”_ He bucks up, unable to repress the reaction to the unbearable ecstasy of what’s happening right now. This is Dick Grayson, _Dick’s_ hands on him, Dick’s tongue and lips and oh, now his _fingers,_ slipping lower and circling his opening to slick up and then slowly, carefully pressing _in._ “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he manages, trying with difficulty to still his hips.

Dick pulls off with an obscene _pop_ and then grins up at him playfully. “Don’t apologize, Tim. I love feeling how into it you are,” and with a wink he dives back down. Only this time, he lifts Tim’s legs with ease and aims lower, pressing kisses to his inner thigh, his crease, and then—

_Oh hell, I’m not going to survive this, am I?_

And then Tim’s _gone,_ lost in a wash of incredible sensations, unbearable but so _good_ he never wants it to stop. Dick’s lips and tongue and skillful fingers on him, in him, _everywhere…_

He’s moaning soft broken whimpers, and Dick’s hands are running soothingly along his legs, his sides, and his thighs even as he continues to drive him mercilessly to the very edge of pleasure. When he falls, lost to the thrilling sensations the alpha is giving him, it’s with the incredible sense that Dick will always be there to catch him.

Tim’s not sure how long it’s been when he opens his eyes again to find himself sprawled across Dick’s chest, the air around them redolent with the decadent scent of satisfied omega and happy but horny alpha. The alpha’s rubbing his back and—he frowns—still wearing the bottom half of the Nightwing suit.

_That is completely unacceptable._

He sits up abruptly, causing Dick to frown in concern and make an inquisitive noise. “Bathroom? I guess we both _could_ use a shower after all that…” He starts to sit up too.

Tim frowns. “What? No! We’re not done yet!” He reaches out and shoves the alpha back down on the mattress and then begins tugging off the lower half of the Nightwing suit. “How do you want me?” He hasn’t forgotten what he more than suspects about some of the older man’s sexual history, and there’s no way he’s going to do anything without explicit and enthusiastic consent.

Maybe someday, Dick will be ready to talk to him about that. For now, he can do his best to give him happier memories to carry forward.

Dick’s eyes widen, pupils expanding dramatically as the scent of interested alpha abruptly intensifies. He sits up as Tim finishes dragging the suit off, reaching for him. “I like it a _lot_ of ways,” he says with a quick wink, gaze flicking down to eye Tim’s erection speculatively in a way that makes his face burn as he twitches with interest. He _has_ heard that Dick is very flexible sexually, especially for an alpha. His eyes maybe glaze over for a second, imagining that, but Dick’s voice pulls him back.

“And I’d like to explore them all with you. But right now, just like this is perfect,” he whispers, taking him in his arms and guiding him onto his lap as he leans back against the headboard. “God Tim, you’re so _perfect.”_ He leans his head back and moans as Tim carefully lowers himself onto him, and _oh,_ he’s _big._

It’s been a few years since he messed around with Ives, and he and Kon never made it past the experimental kissing stage before agreeing they worked better as friends. This is… Dick rolls his hips experimentally and Tim’s eyes roll back as he groans, clenching down and oh _hell_ that’s intense. It’s all so _much,_ but it’s _good_ and now Dick’s pressing tender little kisses to his forehead, his temple, and, oh, he’s trying to get to his lips.

_I can help with that._

Tim tips his head back to oblige him and revels in the deep, full kiss that Dick gives him as the alpha’s hips begin rolling in earnest, starting a pulsing rhythm that builds unfairly fast until he’s cresting _again,_ crying out and tightening around Dick, Dick who is pulsing inside him and clutching at his hips with a tight grip as he groans his own release.

He floats, blissful.

_I never imagined it would be like this. So good, how can it be so good? I don’t think it could be like this with anyone else but Dick._

Dick, who is burying his face in his neck and just breathing his scent, in great heaving gulps like he’s been drowning and Tim’s the one giving him air. The aching vulnerability of the moment sends a thrill of love and protectiveness through him for the alpha in his arms. He wraps himself more tightly around him, arms locked behind his shoulder and thighs pressing around his hips. As he moves, he becomes aware of a growing pressure and—

 _Oh hey, so_ that’s _what a knot feels like. Damn, that’s kinda weird, but… also pretty awesome._

He tightens experimentally, curious, and then flushes at the wave of pleasure that goes through him at the sensation of being so _full._ In his arms, Dick groans and trembles slightly, pulsing inside him again. “Holy shit,” the man whispers faintly, finally lifting his head to meet his eyes, gaze dazed and blissed out. “Tim-sex is the _best_ sex.” He grins dopily. “I’m so glad we finally talked about our feelings.” His eyelids start to droop, and he blinks heavily before seemingly realizing falling asleep in this position would be a terrible idea. He tugs and pulls to carefully reposition them into a reclining position more suitable for napping until the knot goes down.

Warm, satisfied, and surrounded by a sense of safety and love he’s sought for years but never thought to actually find, Tim cuddles into the alpha. _Me too, Dick. Me too._ He grins. Operant conditioning is _totally_ going to work for them. He has a good feeling about this.

Although… he snorts. “Anything I ever try to say about Dick-sex is going to end up sounding like a lewd joke.”

Dick’s warm chest shakes beneath him as the man laughs softly. “That’s okay,” he says. “I love to laugh.” And he tips his head to nuzzle sleepily at Tim’s face, rubbing their noses together and grinning like a besotted idiot.

Tim doesn’t mind, mostly because he’s pretty sure he’s doing the same thing. _My idiot,_ he thinks fondly. _Oh my god, he’s such a dork and I love him so much._

“Love you too,” Dick murmurs, eyes fully closed now. “...Dork.”

Tim’s eyes widen as he realizes he must have spoken out loud. Well, whatever. He smiles, allowing his eyes to fall closed. _Mmm, that was a hell of a truth we just shared. Maybe enough for some morning blowjobs._

“Definitely,” Dick agrees, his chest rocking with laughter again. Tim snickers, settling down. _I think this is going to work out just fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dick, pressing up against Tim’s back to lovingly kiss his neck the morning after their night of passion:** *Spots bottle of hardcore antibiotics on side table* “What’s this? You’re not sick”  
>  **Tim, popping an antibiotic, muttering:** “That’s what happens when you lose your spleen”  
>  **Dick:** “What WHAT”  
>  **Tim, tugging him back to the bedroom and trying to change the subject:** “I think THAT’S a truth that deserves doggy-style!” *Initiates distraction, is very successful*  
>  **Dick, suitably distracted, panting:** “I mean, well, YEAH, but we’re totally coming back to this later!”  
> *  
> Thank you so much to everyone who has given kudos or commented, and extra thanks to Salazarastark for running Dicktim Week! Also, thanks to the [Capes & Coffee Tim Drake discord server](https://discord.gg/bGhpCDn) for the sprints, betas and support while I was writing this. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story, and thanks for reading!


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